94. Hugs for the Soul

Who would have thunk? I’m not sure who came up with that grammatically incorrect question, but sometimes it just works. Like now. Who would have thunk that when I had my goodbye hug with Don and Denise this past Christmas, I’d get to do it all over again? I can name three people who didn’t think that would be the case.

Defeating my life expectancy has made it possible to enjoy some unexpected surprises life still has in store for me. The surprises come in big and small packages: beating Covid = big surprise, getting to see the spring green of tree buds = small surprise. The impact of these end of life surprises cannot be quantified or defined; other than to say they are truly priceless.

The circumstances of being in the company of my brother and sister-in-law again sure is one of the bigger and happier surprises, and still I admit there is an element of, ‘I wish the hug could have taken place at the shore of the mighty Atlantic rather than at 183 — but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Nobody, that’s who!

As you know, my family does an annual family reunion at Wells beach every July. This year’s trip was booked during last year’s trip. That’s how we’ve done things for decades. At mid-week of the vacation we’re enjoying, Marchrie goes from room to room and asks, “You in for next year?” The response could be a collective, “DUH,” but it’s usually an enthusiastic, “YEUP.” Then she asks, “Any room changes?” Donnie and Denise are the adventurous ones who like to try different rooms with slightly different amenities, or that offer slightly different ocean views, but the response from Tim and me is an unequivocal NOPE. Mr. and Mrs. Wonderful are creatures of habit and we always want the room we stayed in as honeymooners or at the very least one next door to my mommy and my sister.

For more than thirty years the OBs, the McCarthys, the Bodreaus, the Sneades, and the Bucks (our newest additions) have packed their cars, SUVs, and trucks with beach gear and excitement and headed over the Piscataqua River Bridge for some fun in the sun. Digging toes in sand, taking a dip in the cold, cold, ocean waters of Maine, and catching some relaxing rays could be the reason for our annual sojourn — being with one another is the reason. Opening your sand chair, claiming your spot, and plunking your ass down for the duration is life renewing; opening your arms, claiming a loved one, and holding on to a hug for the duration is life affirming.

A little sidestep. I think I mentioned that Hadley and I have a new ‘thing’ that’s just for her and me. Everytime I leave my chair for a trip to my throne, she is waiting with open arms for my return. I walk to her, put aside my walker, and she moves in for the gentle squeeze we both need. The other day she said, “Hugs are the best thing ever, MammyGrams.” I fully concur with that statement. There is nothing that speaks more directly to the soul than a hug. So, when I found myself still on this side of living in the month of July, I knew I’d be getting another hug to my soul from Don and Denise.

What joy!

The way vacation plans normally work for the Sneades from Georgia is this: they take two back to back weeks, they spend the first week with Denise’s family doing different things. Sometimes they vacation at the ocean, sometimes they cabin in the woods, and sometimes they do an On Golden Pond experience lakeside somewhere. To the best of my knowledge, the ocean or the woods or the lakes are in New England, so keep an eye out, you might just find a Sneade or a Miller digging toes in sand, checking one another for ticks, or rowing a canoe.

July 16th marked the beginning of vacation week # 1 at York Beach, Maine. Don and Denise made plans to arrive in Massachusetts a day early, on the 15th so they could visit with me. I’ve been doing my very own happy countdown for their visit for weeks. Then life threw us a little surprise. It wasn’t a very nice surprise. Somewhere in Virginia Don’s truck broke down. Tow trucks and temporary lodging were necessary until such time as the water pump was replaced. Timing-wise it set everyone back a day — no biggie, sort of a biggie. In the scheme of things, my scheme of things, it was akin to waking on the 25th to find Christmas was moved to the 26th — no biggie, sort of a biggie.

Anyway, I saw Don and Denise!

 A sight for sore eyes doesn’t adequately describe the feeling. Its significance was more of a gentle touch to a wounded heart. The visit was wonderful, slightly emotional at the beginning and the end, but full of catch up and laughter in the middle. And when they left, there were gentle hugs and the exuberance of knowing they’ll be back to spend vacation week # 2 at 1 Inwood with plenty of visits to 183.

Awesome!

Buzzkill

I hate to bring cancer into this lovely writing, but I promised to tell it like it is, and there are some yucky developments. When I was first diagnosed, the overwhelming devastation of my skeletal system sort of made me forget there was some ‘involvement’ in some lymph nodes. It’s been eight months so I guess we shouldn’t be surprised that there’s some involvement with the lymph nodes. That’s yuck # 1.

I have had a birthmark on my left shin near my knee. For sixty-four years it has been perfectly flat and the size of a ladybug. I noticed this week that it is no longer flat, it has taken on the appearance of a volcano; as for its size, let’s just say the ladybug needs to hit the gym. I discussed my lumps and bumps and showed my very own Mount Krakatoa to Nurse M who didn’t say, “Yuck,” or render a diagnosis, but she didn’t say, “No,” when I suggested different types of cancer have joined the party.

Not more than I can handle. It seems I can handle a lot.

And I am more than willing to handle whatever comes if it means I can see my family members again.

Since we are talking about Don and Denise I offer you this.

# 16. This letter arrived tucked inside a greeting card and was written on three-hole punch notepaper. It read:

Back in 1986 Don and I met at a place called the City Hotel, a local hangout in Westfield. We started chit-chatting and when I was leaving Don asked if he could see me again. So we made plans for the following Friday night at the same City Hotel. We played some pool and kept the jukebox going for the evening. We were smitten with each other. Thereafter, we began dating, a ride to Vermont, a ride to Worcester for pizza, hitting the beaches, Auburn for Don’s family gatherings, my family reunions in Westfield, and visiting Mom and Dad for card playing and suppers.

In 1990 we both decided to relocate to Rome, GA for Don’s employment opportunity. Big step! Now here it is 2022 and I’m still in Rome, GA with my best friend, a wonderful husband, and my partner in crime.

Quite the journey. Only regrets we both have is not living closer to family. We made a comfortable life together and I’m so proud of what we have accomplished! My sweet husband and your brother Don always tells me how much he loves me and would do anything for me, and that’s a ditto for me. Love that man with all my heart. Hope you enjoyed a little history of our romance. Bless you Sheryll and take care. “Love you to the moon and back.” ~ Denise Sneade xoxo

Playing pool, taking road trips, hitting the beaches, and hanging with family — the perfect date story.

Finding adventure, working together, falling in love, and making commitments — the perfect love story.

Thank you, Denise Sneade

# 17. This inspirational quote came tucked inside a greeting card. It read:

Take charge of your attitude. Don’t let someone else choose it for you. Never underestimate the power of a kind word or deed. Be kinder than necessary. Never deprive someone of hope; it may be all they have. Think big thoughts, but relish small pleasures. Be brave. Even if you’re not, pretend to be. No one can tell the difference. Never give up on anybody. Miracles happen every day. ~ Nancy Cimato

Be kind, relish small pleasures, be brave, and never give up. Words to live by in my position.

Words to live by in all of our lives.

Thank you, Nancy Cimato

# 18. This letter came by email and it reads:

Hi there Sheryll:

In reading # 92 I am thrilled to be able to share that I have always been an archivist of letters and this goes back to my teen years and through adulthood. There is no greater pleasure than handing a kept letter to an old friend that captures who and what we had going on in our lives decades ago. What a great way to archive the past and a particular moment in time!

I treasure letters my dad wrote to his sister in Cali a year before he would die unexpectedly from a heart attack at 52. I only wish I had her replies to him, since she was a published and successful writer but her replies were not kept for perpetuity by my Mum. I also have a big bulging tan envelope of letters sent from West Pac by my then boyfriend, the ship's doc, cruising on a Navy destroyer during the Vietnam war. I was back on Oahu teaching h.s in Waipahu. Dad's death that summer put the kibosh on our planned reunion; I returned home.

I was lucky enough to participate in 5 NEH summer seminars on various authors. After the 4 weeks we spent at Texas A&M devoted to studying Huck Finn, the great American novel, we went to Twain's  house in Ct. Upstairs in his pool room/cigar area/writing area, we learned he'd work on several works at one time, as well as writing copious amounts of great correspondence.

Twain was a prolific letter writer and knew well their value to posterity. So you see, Sheryll, you are in fabulous company in encouraging this fading art form!

I finished James Patterson's auto bio a week ago. As a prolific writer of mysteries, he makes this point. We are ALL mysteries. We are all going to die; we just don't know when, where and how. You can enter your info on the "Death Clock" for a random estimate but conjecture at best.

I spent part of July 4th in a beautiful small rural Catholic cemetery where a prominent big stone lists the names of my loved ones; 3 years ago, I added my name. I have become like John, in the first teen novel I taught, who thoughtfully notes just how peaceful and wonderful he finds the cemetery. And this from a 15 year old known troublemaker. I embrace my mortality even as I know most would probably think it ghoulish of me not slugging a beer while holding a hot dog that afternoon.

You are surrounded by a loving supportive family. Many of us lack that due to time and age. Know that your writing will live on forever as a comfort to us, your readers. God Bless you as you now continue on your journey with strength, compassion and wisdom. I wish I could have known you in real time during my many years in Worcester. Born, educated and taught there.

P.S. I do love my handwriting, especially my signature, a tribute to my Blessed Sac nuns' prodding! Fondly, ~ Eileen

I wish I could have met the woman who included my name in a piece of correspondence that referenced Mark Twain and James Patterson. Astounding!

Thank you, Eileen

# 19. This note was written on the inside of a sympathy card. It made me wonder, until I read the writer’s words:

Dear Sheryll,

I know of your journey through Eileen McTigue McDonald. I’m not sure what first drew me to your blog, but nonetheless I look forward to it regularly.

I am sorry for your struggles both physical and emotional – but am awed by your tenacity and resolve. None of us get out of here alive … I recently lost my own sister (a year ago) – somewhat unexpectedly – though she’d been ill for a while. So I have a particular sympathy for your sister. You’ve lived with a special bond that many never experience. I am sure she will miss you more than words can describe. I, too, have a wonderful husband, a terrific son, and a really good life, but God do I miss my sister.

Anyway, I chose a sympathy card because I am sorry for your loss, and wish you a peaceful remainder of this ride. Thank you for your wise words and retrospective. Not sure I would or will have the serenity, acceptance, courage, or wisdom to document such a journey. (Stole that from AA). Your family – while I’m sure are heartbroken – they are so very blessed to have you. P. S. Also a dear friend of Janice Harvey. God bless ~ Jody Kennedy Valade

The sympathy card is so spot on in so many ways.

There is a sense of loss for things that have already changed.

There is a profound sense of loss for my loved ones.

I am already grieving them.

Thank you, Jody Kennedy Valade

# 20. This note came in a greeting card. It reads:

Dearest Sheryll,

You have been instrumental in opening my eyes even wider to the most important things in life. I always kind of knew it but really … who really does until faced with limits and knowing their end date is near. LIVE, LOVE, LAUGH … OMG you have, and so many of us I’m sure seek the love you have with Mr. Wonderful and your family.

I grew up (a couple years) in the projects and then lived with my Dad. I had a great HS experience and friends that remain to this day. I married young after quitting college. NOT a happy marriage for many of the 44 years. I stayed for my girls because of my experience with parents that divorced when I was 8 years old. My husband passed away 8 years ago from melanoma. Sad because the marriage was getting better finally, and it was hard to lose him.

But here I am. I’ve made a wonderful, though hard working life teaching and union president work. Still part-time at Worcester State University – I can’t sit still. I relish every moment with my family and awesome friends. The best I could ever wish for. 

And just this week, a breast cancer diagnosis. But like you, I’ll fight it with all I have. I feel such a close connection to you because your stories and voice seem to mirror so closely to who I am and how I think.

We are blessed and loved and we love deeply. We laugh, we bitch, we sing, we make stuff work. We have all that is most important in life.

I am thankful from the bottom of my heart that we have met and you have allowed me to get to know you. Love you soul sister! ~ Cheryl Del Signore

“We laugh, we bitch, we sing, we make stuff work.”

Those will be the things that will help you through your breast cancer journey.

And tears, don’t forget to shed them, otherwise they will weigh you down.

Thank you, Cheryl Del Signore

And to everyone reading I suggest we all take a page from Cheryl — the other Cheryl:

Laugh, bitch, sing, and make stuff work!

Permission received for medical disclosure.